FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Marcus grit his teeth as he finished removing the barrel assembly of his handgun and placed it back on the kitchen table, feeling a spike of pain return to his injured ribs. He swore to himself. The painkillers were wearing off again, quicker this time. The human was loath to take more at this point; three doses in the space of less than a day was already pushing it. They worked too well, that was the problem. Marcus had seen more than once the consequences of relying on them too much. Reliance led to dependence; dependence led to addiction. That was a road he had no intention of taking.

Sighing, Marcus gathered the components of his gun, deciding to postpone the manual cleaning and inspection he usually preferred to carry out. That could wait until after his ribs were done trying to detach from his sternum. He hobbled out of the spacious kitchen towards a floor-to-ceiling metal panel on the dividing wall, adjacent to the open-plan living area. Marcus' house was fairly large by Horizon standards. While it couldn't compare to the lavish mansions of the more affluent districts or the dizzyingly high penthouses of the central towers, he was still far better off than the average citizen- thanks to the highly profitable nature of his work. The human had long ago discovered that crime pays, and it pays well. Especially when you were the best around.

Years of honing his natural skills allowed Marcus to live in relative luxury, here in the quiet suburbs of the western district. His home was a half bungalow, a flat-roofed building with a single square upstairs room, built like a tower in the corner of the house. The front door opened straight into his living room, with his kitchen a half-step up at the back of it. Directly to the left of the entrance was a door leading to the garage, home to Marcus' prized motorbike. Opposite was his spare room, which the human used to store all his non-critical equipment and miscellaneous pieces of technology. The door to Marcus' bedroom was beyond that, further up the right wall, adjacent to the kitchen-living area. The bedroom only had one external wall, and the first thing Marcus did upon moving in was to have the single window filled in. A necessary precaution. It meant the only way into the room was through the reinforced steel door, which was fitted with half a dozen locking mechanisms -all mechanical. Marcus could only sleep at night knowing that, even if an infiltrator managed to bypass all his other integrated home security systems, he would wake long before they managed to break down his bedroom door. To anyone else, such measures might seem like extreme paranoia, but for the human they were completely justified. Being asleep in bed was the one time when Marcus was truly vulnerable, and though he owned this house under a fake identity and took every other possible precaution, he didn't doubt that someone with enough time and money could eventually track him here. So, it never hurt to be prepared.

Marcus' bedroom was separated from the kitchen by a thick dividing wall. A full half metre in diameter, it had been specially reconstructed to house the equipment safe he was now approaching. He pressed his left, real palm to a flat glass scanner, and after a moment it illuminated green to confirm access. The whole panel split down the middle, two thick steel doors swinging open to reveal the arsenal within.

A fully modular assault rifle was the centrepiece, seated snugly within its holder. In its standard configuration, the rifle was a fairly basic weapon. It chambered a 5.56mm round and could be fired in full-auto, semi-auto or burst mode. A number of smart-scopes were seated in their own mounts above the gun, each tailored for a different use. Additionally, a variety of grips, stocks and other accessories sat in an open case below the weapon, and the rifle could be configured with any combination of them. Customisability was crucial to Marcus; with the variety of jobs he undertook, the human needed options for every situation.

Marcus pressed a button on a drawer below the rifle assembly. The drawer silently opened out, revealing the steel hard case in which the parts for his even more modular handgun were stored. Marcus carefully placed each part in its insert. The weapon was hardly a single gun at all, more like a collection of gun components which could be assembled in whatever configuration the user desired. The core of the weapon was a biometrically-linked grip, to which could be attached chambers and barrels of various calibres, and could fit an equally varied range of magazines and firing pin assemblies. Most of the parts were custom made and the whole weapon system was cutting edge -another expense paid for by Marcus' accumulated wealth. Combat skill was important, sure, but Marcus was under no illusion that it was all that mattered. To truly be the best, you needed to own the best.

The human slid the handgun case closed, glancing around the rest of the arsenal to ensure all was in its proper place. Below the handgun drawer were four cases full of ammunition; hundreds of rounds of every standard calibre -along with a few magazines' worth of bastic bullets, speciality ammunition which was expensive and hard to come by. Each of those massive, high-velocity slugs contained a small explosive charge, designed to puncture the strongest body armour and rupture the soft flesh beneath. They were extremely lethal, and extremely illegal. Marcus found himself regretting he didn't bring some to his raid on Zianos' compound. They would have made fighting Atlas the grizzly a lot simpler, and saved Marcus' ribs in the process.

He continued to check the rest of his equipment. The inside face of the left steel door held a variety of grenades, with over a dozen in total. His freshly-cleaned combat knife sat framed next to its unused twin, and a range of other tools were laid out in their respective mountings. Inside the right door, his light combat armour was already secured in its mounting, with an obvious, hefty dent in the right shoulder pad. Marcus frowned. That whole section would likely need to be replaced. The bullet it stopped had already been removed, but his black and purple shoulder was a testament to the close call. He had already lost his entire right arm from the shoulder down -the last thing the human needed was more nerve damage, which would necessitate even more cybernetics to replace the lost functionality. While his state-of-the-art military grade prosthetic certainly provided an advantage in combat over his previous, fleshier appendage, not a day went by where Marcus didn't mourn the loss of part of his humanity. It was one thing being augmented by choice; it was another entirely having a huge chunk of you literally torn away against your will.

Stepping away from the equipment safe, Marcus absent-mindedly scratched at his prosthetic elbow as the two steel doors swung shut and sealed with a pneumatic hiss. His cybernetic arm was fully equipped with a dense network of touch sensors; it was almost as functional as a real arm in that regard. It wasn't, however, built to simulate itches. That annoyance was provided by his brain free of charge. Marcus counted himself lucky, though. He'd heard about those who couldn't afford proper prosthetic replacements suffering from phantom limb sensations, with pain they couldn't stop or itches they could never scratch. Marcus's advanced cybernetic arm could at least satisfy his brain's irrational need to make him scratch at the psuedoskin covering.

Speaking of…

Pausing on his way into the living room, the human gave his right arm a quick visual inspection. The replacement skin had adhered well. He always kept a few spare sets of psuedoskin, as the synthetic material was unable to heal itself naturally. And with how badly Atlas had torn up the previous covering Marcus was once again thankful for his over-preparedness. At least the prosthetic wasn't designed to replicate the sensation of pain. Sure, he felt it when those wicked claws ripped through the artificial skin covering, destroying the high-density touch sensors as they went, but the feeling didn't actually qualify as pain. Thankfully.

The human flopped tiredly on his couch, immediately regretting doing so when the shooting pain in his ribs made him grunt and clutch his chest, waiting for the throbbing to subside. It was about time for the next regen injection, he realised. The injection formula contained various tissue repair promoters and bone regrowth stimulators, and if he stuck to the regime of two painful injections per day then Marcus would be fully healed in a weeks' time. He had taken the first shot very early in the morning, right after he returned home from his mission and ungeared. The human had then downed more pain meds before crashing into his bed, too tired even to dream of the blood and the bodies he was responsible for. Those dreams would come later.

Beating back darker thoughts, Marcus reminded himself of the reason for that bloodbath, a reason which currently still resided in the personal data storage embedded inside his left forearm.

File 243_847b.

If his sources were to be believed, that one little file was worth potentially millions of credits on the black market. That would be the single biggest payday of Marcus' career to date. Taken by his former friend Zianos from an incompetent, drunken courier out the back of some classy bar, Marcus had no idea where the data originated from. The courier himself never revealed his employer before he disappeared -the day after Zianos robbed him. By the supposed value of the data, the human guessed it belonged to one of Horizon's largest Design and Manufacture consortiums -likely one of the weapons manufacturers, since architectural plans or industrial blueprints weren't exactly hot black market goods. Marcus knew it would take time to locate a trustworthy buyer, one that wouldn't stab him in the back or try to get off without paying him, and in the meantime planned to lay low for a few weeks and recuperate.

Marcus sighed as he gestured in the air, the floor-to-ceiling screen opposite him lighting up in response. He saw the time flash up. 22:31. He pondered how he might kill a few hours. A movie, maybe? Or, he could catch the latest episode of-

The lights cut; their gentle white illumination replaced by a dull red glow. The silent alarm had been triggered. Marcus leapt painfully to his feet as the media browser was replaced by a live feed from his front porch camera. Text flashed on his heads-up display, reactivating his augmentations in combat mode:

//WARNING: PERIMETER BREACH//

//FRONT MOTION SENSOR TRIGGERED//

//UNIDENTIFIED INTRUDER DETECTED//

But it wasn't the warning messages that got Marcus' attention. It was the thing shown in the camera feed that made his breath catch for just a moment.

Barely visible in the dim illumination provided by the streetlamps and Marcus' porch light was a huge, lumbering shape. The picture was clearer in the infrared feed. The creature practically shone in that spectrum, it's four-legged body easily discernible as it strode through his front garden, heading towards the drooping willow.

A full ten seconds after the silent alarm triggered, Marcus finally processed what he was looking at:

A Feral.

In his front yard.

The human sprang into action, ignoring his throbbing ribs as he sprinted back to the equipment safe and slapped his palm on the scanner. The doors opened agonisingly slowly as adrenaline began to course through his veins.

What the fuck was a Feral doing in his yard? Marcus had only heard stories of the wild-living creatures. It was almost unheard of for them to approach the city, never mind end up in central suburbia. The only cases he could remember were a handful of occasions where Ferals had broken into homes to steal food, or sometimes other seemingly random items. All of those incidents had resulted in deaths, with either the Feral being gunned down or the unfortunate inhabitants torn to bloody pieces by tooth and claw. But the last time he'd heard about such an incident was years ago, and Feral sightings around the city perimeter were at an all-time low.

Today just wasn't his day.

The metallic doors finally finished opening. His eyes flicked over the assault rifle briefly. It didn't have enough stopping power, Marcus realised. He needed-

Marcus lunged for the steel case containing his pistol components. He grabbed the assembly tool still on his kitchen table and forced down a nervous jitter as he began to assemble the gun with practiced ease. Only this time, in a vastly different configuration. Gone was the low-calibre, practically silent weapon he used last night during the raid of Zianos' compound. He chose his largest calibre barrel and a special receiver, the only one which would fit the ammunition needed to guarantee a kill against a Feral.

Bastic bullets. Marcus had never needed to use them before. He hoped they'd live up to expectations.

Marcus managed to put together the weapon in less than a minute. Time was of the essence here -that thing outside could crash through a window any second now, and the human didn't fancy his chances in an unarmed duel with an angry Feral, even with his augmentations. He grabbed a magazine of bastic bullets, double-checking the ammunition type before sliding it into the gun and racking the slide. The gun's systems synced with Marcus' HUD, ammo count and aiming trajectory blinking into existence on his artificial corneas. The human cursed momentarily as he realised there would be no time to armour up. He needed to move now.

Pacing back into the living area, weapon raised, Marcus almost did a double-take when he saw the security feed again. The creature wasn't pacing around the house, looking for an entry point as he had anticipated. Instead it had lain down, sprawled and unmoving beneath his willow tree.

“The fuck?" he muttered.

Marcus gestured at the wall-screen, and the home security suite paired with his corneal HUD, overlaying the infrared heatmap from the outside camera feed onto his visual display. The function effectively allowed him to see through walls. Its effect would be extremely disorientating to someone unfamiliar with the technology, but Marcus had long grown used to navigating and fighting in such a semi-virtual space. He could clearly see the glowing heat-signature of the prone Feral through his garage walls. It appeared to be lying on its side, huge chest rising and falling periodically. Its breath was visible in the infrared as quickly dissipating warm clouds.

Marcus realised with some disbelief that it seemed to be asleep. Why such a creature would decide his front yard was an acceptable sleeping spot was beyond him. The human resolved to show it the error of its ways. He paced slowly through his living room towards the front door, his gun steadied at the prone figure even without a line-of-sight available. Always track your targets. The time needed to line up a clear shot could cost you the fight, so Marcus knew to eliminate that time as much as possible. He never engaged without a kill shot already set up, if he could help it.

He was right at the door. Taking a deep breath, Marcus sharpened his focus. Whatever this thing was doing here, he doubted it would go down without a fight. A single bastic bullet might not even be enough -so the safe thing to do would be to empty the mag until the Feral was nothing more than a twitching corpse on his lawn, its body shredded into bloody ribbons.

The safe thing to do.

So, Marcus somewhat surprised himself when he unlocked and opened the door, stepped onto the porch and instead of firing the gun dry at the Feral -which had already jumped to its feet in alarm, baring its teeth- he instead shouted a warning, in a potentially misguided attempt to reason with the creature. An attempt that could have cost him his life.

“Don't fucking move!"

The creature by his willow tree froze, its haunches raised and claws bared as it flared out its wings -wings!- on either side of its body. Marcus took two slow steps into the moonlight, his weapon absolutely steady and his gaze piercing as he took in the Feral in front of him. The creature was even bigger than it looked on the cameras, bigger than any species living in Horizon, with its huge flared wings certainly adding to that impression. It was reptilian in appearance, and Marcus' enhanced eyesight could make out tiny scales covering its body as they glimmered in the dark. The scales were mostly coloured emerald green, with what looked like a lighter brown colouration denoting the creature's underbelly and leathery wing membranes. Its head was in the form of an elongated snout, not unlike those possessed by some of Horizon's reptilian citizens. Two long, white horns curved backwards from the top of its head, which seemed oddly positioned if they were to be used as weapons. Below those, a pair of deep blue eyes watched him intently; never quite meeting his own, augmented organs.

It struck him that this Feral was, in fact, a dragon. Marcus suppressed a look of shock. These creatures were exceedingly rare, with sightings reported in the wilds only once every couple of years. Almost nothing was known about the elusive beasts, and Marcus cursed inwardly at the fact he had absolutely no idea about this thing's capabilities. How fast was it? How strong? Could it really 'breathe fire' as the rumours said? The human wished yet again that he'd donned his armour before confronting the dragon in his front yard. He waited another few moments, and when it gave no response or recognition of his command Marcus should have shot it there and then.

But once again, he hesitated.

“If I even think you're going to move, I'll shoot you dead. That's your first and only warning."

This time, to the human's utter astonishment, it responded.

“Kill me? With that little thing? It doesn't even have a blade-not that you could ever pierce my scales with one, human!"

On the outside, Marcus remained stone-faced. Inside, he was reeling. This Feral, this ­dragon, had not only understood him but replied to him in perfect common! What he had previously thought was practically an animal seemed to be intelligent, and capable of speech just as good as any person who walked on two legs. Was this all just a crazy dream? The human's concentration was finally broken when he realised it had spoken in a decidedly feminine voice, her wavering tone betraying that she was actually afraid of him. Marcus could take it no longer. He laughed despite himself, his gaze still unbroken as he held back a continued grin at the ridiculousness of the situation. Though, her choice of words struck him. No 'blade'? She must have had no experience with modern technology. Marcus didn't want the dragon to underestimate him. Just because the creature could speak didn't mean she wouldn't still be a threat. He saw her eyes were fixed on his weapon, the tiniest hint of curiosity hidden beneath a blanket of fear and aggression.

“Ha! You've never even seen a gun, have you, Feral? Trust me, all I've to do is squeeze my finger and your brains will be splattered all over my front yard."

The dragon looked as if she had been physically struck, ears flattening backwards, and she even began to tremble in response to his threat. Marcus realised that she wasn't simply afraid- this creature was acutely terrified.

She responded again, barely getting the words out. “Y-you're bluffing!"

Watching such a fearsome creature stumble over her own words and shake in fear was almost comical to Marcus, the tables having decidedly turned in his favour. Perhaps a little intimidation was all he would need to get this thing to piss off. He shook his head slowly.

“Afraid not, darlin'. Sure, an ordinary gun probably wouldn't do the job, you're right on that. This one here, however, is loaded up with bastic bullets. They're designed to punch through four inches of Titanium-A armour- one of these'll pop your skull like a fuckin balloon!" Marcus accentuated that last part, and his words had the desired effect. The dragon shook almost violently, her wicked claws biting into his front lawn in an apparently futile attempt to still her limbs. The Feral's breaths became ragged, another sign of her obvious panic. Marcus drove the point home.

“That's right. So, for your own good, I'd suggest you back down."

Marcus had considered the possibility that backing such a large predator into a corner like this might bring problems of its own, if she lashed out in fear rather than back down. However, the dragon in front of him didn't give him the impression of a caged beast, but rather a pup who he had just been kicked by its owner. She cast her head down low, wings retracted over her back and stance narrowed. The human hadn't expected such a strong response, the Feral assuming a completely submissive posture and quivering in terror from his words alone. For the first time, he actually felt a little sorry for the creature, and what she did next even sent a pang of guilt seething into his chest. The dragon cowered, her head still downcast and not even looking at him.

“Please don't- I'm sorry…please don't k-kill me!"

Marcus paused for a moment, deep in thought. Slowly, he began to cross the distance of several metres and approach the creature. He appraised the situation, his gun still trained on the dragon, although by now he had little intention of using it.

“Please…"

With one last desperate plea, the Feral collapsed to the ground, buried her snout in the dirt and began to sob. Marcus stopped about a metre away. The dragon shut her eyes and cried quietly into the grass as the human stared, bewildered. He stayed fully alert, however. The rational part of his mind reminded him that this whole display could be for show, a ruse to draw him in before striking quickly when his guard was down.

The faint stench of urine reached Marcus' nose. A cursory glance revealed that yes, the Feral had just pissed herself on his front lawn. Either this dragon was actually the world's greatest actor, or she was really that petrified of him. She continued to sob, no longer paying him any heed. The creature looked like she was simply waiting for him to kill her.

No. Not a 'creature', Marcus realised. A wild, semi-sentient beast didn't speak, it didn't beg for its life and cry real tears just like anyone else. This dragon was a person. A person whose only crime so far had been to try and rest in his front yard.

The pang of guilt in his chest pulsed, and a recent memory began to play out in his head…

Marcus stood over the corpse of his most recent target. A hyena, barely into his twenties, his expressionless muzzle hanging open and lifeless. Blood trickled continuously from a bullet hole in his temple, pooling on the tiled floor of the bathroom and seeping into the recently deceased hyena's fur. This hadn't been a personal matter for Marcus; rather, it was simply the latest in a series of find-and-liquidate contracts the human had taken on.

Ekon Abara had been his name. Formerly employed by one of Horizons largest data cartels as a codebreaker, he had been discovered unwisely squirrelling away funds from the organisation to his own personal accounts. The cartel had only caught on to what he was doing before the hyena disappeared -along with over 10 million credits in stolen money. As 'stolen' as illegally generated funds could be, anyway. Despite the size and influence of the cartel, after a week of trying they were unable to track him down with their own resources.

So, they contacted Marcus. With his own vast network of contacts, and years of experience in finding those who didn't want to be found, it only took the human two days to locate Ekon. The hyena had put up no fight; he was unarmed and defenceless, and while Marcus had some reservations executing someone who was unable to fight back, a contract was a contract. He had professional standards to uphold. The cartel didn't even care much about the credits- 10 million was nothing to a criminal organisation of that size. It was about making an example.

A hundred thousand credits.

That's how much Ekon's life was worth.

That was how much money it took for Marcus to look the hyena dead in the eyes as he cowered in the bathroom of the dingy rental apartment, begging and pleading for his life, his girlfriend beside him screaming for mercy, and pull the trigger.

A single, precise shot. Brain and skull fragments sprayed over the white tiles. The horrified wail of Ekon's partner as his corpse slumped to the floor. Her sobbing, clutching at the body as his blood began to stain her clothes, burying her head in Ekon's unmoving chest.

The fox girl was a complication. None of his intel had mentioned her. Marcus didn't like leaving witnesses, but this…

The gun wavered in his grip as he fought with himself.

He made his decision.

BANG!

The echo of that gunshot still reverberated in his mind months later. Marcus had never remembered wanting to undo something so much in his life. Business was business, but Ekon's girlfriend had been innocent. The human had killed her solely to cover his own back. The cartel even refused to pay him extra for the trouble. They had their credits back, and Ekon was dead. She was just… collateral. Marcus had never even learned her name.

Never again.

He stared intently at the sobbing girl below him, pistol still raised even as he knew he could never use it. Feral or not, that's what she was. A girl, probably only a young adult herself. Face down in the dirt, crying and whimpering as she waited to die. The similarity was uncanny, physically different as she was to Ekon's girlfriend.

Ironic. Now Marcus was the monster, and the dragon was his helpless victim.

He made to speak, but the Feral beat him to it.

“… do it."

Her voice, hoarse from sobbing, was muffled by the grass her snout was buried in.

“What?"

“I said, d-do it!" the Feral snivelled. She cracked open her right eye, bleary and tear-stained, and fixed it on Marcus' conflicted expression, waiting for him to respond. “J-just hurry up, and kill me…"

She shut her eye again as fresh tears began to leak from it. “I'm done. I just want th-is to be over. P-please…". When Marcus remained silent, she let out an incredibly sad whine and sighed dejectedly into the grass. “I'm so tired…"

Marcus sighed too, a long, exasperated release of air escaping him.

“I'm not going to kill you."

The dragon's eyes both darted open, and she lifted her snout gingerly off the grass to meet Marcus's gaze. Her expression was one of disbelief. “W-why? You said y-you were going t-"

Marcus interrupted her, his tone softer than before. “No, I only threatened you. Had t' get you to back off, is all. See, this is my property, an' you can't just go wandering where you please. So-"

He paused when she sank her head back into the grass, whining softly. “You should have killed me… I'll be d-dead soon anyway…"

Her statement caught Marcus off-guard. He looked closely at the dragon lying pitifully on his lawn, studying her unfamiliar body. The human had never seen a Feral in real life before, let alone a dragon, but he quickly figured out what was wrong. For the first time, he noticed how skinny she was. Her scale-armoured hide was stretched tight over painfully thin limbs, and her large ribcage was clearly visible through her chest. His augmented vision revealed that patches of her emerald-green scales were discoloured a pale yellow, and while Marcus was no expert on dragon anatomy (was anyone?) even he could tell what ailed her.

She was starving. That would explain everything, he realised. Why she had left the wilds and come to Horizon in the first place. Why she had barely attempted to put up a fight, despite her larger size and physical advantage over him. The fact that such a badly malnourished dragon could even make it this far into the city and still attempt to stand her ground, even if only briefly, was a testament to the resilience of Ferals. Marcus wouldn't have wanted to face her down at full strength.

But as she continued to lay silent, her cerulean eyes regarding him with a mix of uncertainty and resignation, the human knew she was no threat to him in this state. He backed up half a step, and lowered his gun steadily, keeping it pointed downwards but still at the ready -just in case.

“Get up."

“W-what?" she squeaked.

“I said you can get up," Marcus stated. “I won't shoot you. Just get outta here, alright? Before you stir up any more trouble." He sighed. “Other people 'round here might not be so lenient on ya." He nodded when her eyes flickered uncertainly at his weapon. “Go on."

Slowly, and with great visible effort, the Feral rose on shaky legs. She winced in obvious pain. Marcus wondered if she was injured somehow, or simply struggling with her wasted muscles. As she finally stood to her full height, Marcus took a sharp intake of breath. He hadn't been this close to the dragon when she was standing earlier, and only now he was able to appreciate her size in full. The Feral was over a head shorter than him, but her full body was much larger than his. On her hind legs, the dragon looked like she would tower above Marcus by several feet. Her long, tapered tail and folded wings added to his impression of her size. While Horizon hosted people of many species and sizes, she truly was unique compared to them. The human marvelled silently at the impressive creature before him, even emaciated as she was.

Not a creature, he reminded himself. A person.

The dragon made to turn around, and Marcus backed up another step to keep his minimum distance around a metre. She mumbled softly to herself as she began to tread towards a flattened gap in his hedge, evidently meaning to leave the way she came in. Marcus' enhanced hearing picked up her words clearly.

“What's the point, anyway… what's a few more days, w-when-"

“Stop."

The dragon froze, then whirled her snout around so quickly that Marcus instinctively tensed his grip on the pistol despite himself. She looked suddenly fearful again.

“B-but, you said, you wouldn't-"

“Relax. I'm not gonna hurt you. But, before you piss off to who-knows-where, lemme ask you something." Something didn't add up to Marcus, and he was unable to ward off his burning curiosity. “What were you doin' in my yard?"

The dragon's fearful expression dropped, and she reverted to uncertainty. “I-I was, I needed somewhere to, uh, rest…" Her eyes darted away from him, and she almost looked ashamed at the situation.

Marcus snorted humorously. “I could see that. I meant, why here?" He took one hand off his lowered pistol and gestured at the dragon. “Why not fly outta here? Those wings look like they're built to carry you. Why not fly back to the wilds to sleep? Surely you knew the risk of stayin' here?" He refrained from mentioning his small, nagging suspicion that she had, in fact, been planning to steal from his home later at night.

The Feral stared down morosely at her front paws. “…too weak."

The human cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. “What?"

“Too weak to f-fly." She responded in hushed tones. “Had to rest, here…"

Marcus felt that lingering guilt in his chest grow heavier again. He gazed at the emaciated, pitiable creature (person!) standing a few feet away. He noticed her cerulean eyes flick up towards him again, waiting nervously for his response. Marcus thought he saw a lot of pain behind them.

He thought back to Ekon's girlfriend again.

The human's sins weighed heavily on him. Over the years, Marcus had committed them by the hundreds, leaving a trail of death and misery behind him as he lived and acted solely for his own personal gain. He thought of Zianos then. Once his greatest friend, the tiger's life now lay in tatters because of Marcus' own ambition. Zianos was by no means innocent like Ekon's girlfriend had been, and had made foolish mistakes himself, but the human still couldn't shake what he'd done to the man who'd sat by him as Marcus lay half-paralysed in a hospital bed, all those years ago.

When was the last time he'd done something 'good'? Something that didn't benefit only himself, but had actually helped someone else? A simple act of compassion?

Marcus couldn't remember. For so many years he'd tried to bury his conscience, but you could only run from yourself for so long.

In that moment, which seemed to stretch on for hours, Marcus made what he knew could be the stupidest decision of his life.

But it was the right one.

“Feral."

“…huh?" The dragon started, evidently deep in thought herself.

Marcus heaved a heavy sigh, and holstered his weapon as she watched, transfixed. “Seems like you got yourself in a shit situation here," he began. “And your problems aren't really any of my business. But…" he paused, the dragon silently hanging onto his every word, “if you really need somewhere ta sleep tonight…you can stay here."

The Feral's jaw went slack with surprise, and she could barely stammer a reply. “B-but, why would you- I mean, th-thank you! But, um-"

Marcus raised a hand and stepped back as she started towards him, and just prevented himself for reaching for his holster in reaction. “Whoa, relax a sec'. For one night only, got it?"

The Feral shut her mouth and nodded anxiously in reply.

“And only as long as you're not any trouble," he stated in a measured tone. “You sleep here for tonight, don't bother me, and you're gone at sunrise."

“Y-yes. I swear my wings on it. No t-trouble."

Marcus eyed her uncertainly for a moment, before relenting. “Alright. I'll hold you to it."

Neither moved initially, and an awkward silence hung in the air. The Feral was the first to break it.

“So, uh, wh-where do I, um, b-back under the willow?"

“No. Was just thinkin' about where to put you." The human sighed again. “Can't leave you out here. People might see ya, and that'll cause problems for the both of us." His expression soured as his impulsive decision lead to its first issue. “Suppose I'll have to let you into the house…yeah, garage should do the job." Marcus glanced at his garage door, visualising the space inside. There ought to be room for the dragon to lie down as long as he moved the bike to one side.

“Um, wh-what's a, uh, hoose?"

Marcus raised both eyebrows at her. “Seriously? You don't know… ah, whatever. It's 'house', not hoose. It's the building behind me. 'Means a place where somebody lives."

“Ah, I s-see."

“You can stop bein' so damn nervous, you know. I already said I ain't gonna hurt you, so long as you don't try anything, remember?"

The dragon nodded again. “Yes, s-so-" she took a breath, evidently composing herself. “Sorry."

Marcus waved a hand at her. “Whatever." He looked over the huge Feral again, realising yet another snag in his plan. A damp one. He pointed around the side of the house, where his lawn led into the back garden. “Head down there. I'll go behind ya"

She looked uncertain for a moment, before she nodded her assent and began pacing in the direction he indicated. Marcus followed shortly behind, almost stepping on her long tail as it slid through the grass in front of him like some immense green snake. The human didn't trust this Feral nearly enough yet to turn his back on her, so he kept behind as they both reached his side gate. Marcus made a quick gesture at the camera overlooking it and the heavy steel gate slid open. Both human and dragon rounded the corner and walked into Marcus' moderately sized backyard.

The back side of his house was ringed in by three high concrete walls, so that none of the neighbours could overlook the backyard. A decently maintained lawn took up most of the space within, running from the back wall right up to the small patio by his back door. A single flowerbed sat in one corner, overgrown and disused. Marcus had never been a keen gardener. A cheap grasscutter drone was the only thing that kept his lawn from looking like a jungle.

“Stop there," the human instructed, and the dragon immediately halted near the gate. She turned to face him as he edged past, striding towards the back of the house while keeping one eye on her. “No way I'm lettin' you inside as you are" he continued in response to her confused expression.

“W-what?" The Feral eyed him nervously as Marcus bent down beside the back wall and began unspooling his rarely-used garden hose. “What are you going to d-do?" she asked anxiously, holding a front paw close to her chest.

The human grunted as he yanked the hose free. “Move over there," he gestured towards the centre of the lawn, “and face away from me."

“N-no! Why would I- what do you-"

Marcus interrupted her, quickly losing his patience. “You're covered in piss; in case you hadn't noticed." he said disdainfully.

He almost immediately regretted his tone when the dragon responded by looking absolutely mortified, flattening her ears back and casting her head down. She pawed at the ground and mumbled a reply, her voice wavering again.

“…oh. Y-yes. Gods, how s-stupid of me…" she said, having evidently forgotten about the aforementioned 'incident' back when Marcus still had a gun to her head. She paced to the spot Marcus had indicated. The feral turned to face away from him as he had instructed, shoulders drooping in shame.

Marcus pointed the nozzle at her haunches, still guilty over what he had to do. He knew this had to be absolutely humiliating for the dragon. But, guilt or none, having a Feral trailing her own urine into his house wasn't high on his to-do list. Even if it was just onto the concrete floor of the garage.

“Sorry in advance. This'll be fuckin' cold."

He opened the nozzle, and a high-pressure jet of water gushed out to hit the Feral's backside and tail-base square on. Marcus heard her stifle a yelp as the chilling spray doused her entire rear in water. He aimed the hose over both her back legs as well, not spending any longer than he needed to, and after about half a minute of hosing her down he cut off the flow. Good enough, he thought.

“Alright, I'm done. You can turn around now."

The dragon circled around to face him again. Marcus stared at the sorry sight. Her emaciated body was sopping wet from the chest back, and she shivered in the cool night air. The dragon's green snout was still pointed at the grass in shame, and her ears drooped down to match. Marcus' enhanced sight could make out a few silent tears rolling down her scaly cheeks. If the human hadn't been such a hard-hearted prick, he might even have offered her a hug.

Unfortunately for the dragon, letting her sleep inside his house was as far as Marcus was willing to go for one night. Still, he felt bad enough to apologise.

“Uh, sorry about that." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and grimaced. “Like to keep the place clean, y'know. I'll, uh, get you a towel when we get in." The human gestured back towards the side gate. “C'mon, back through there."

The dragon never said a word, silently obeying Marcus' instruction. He followed her back through the gate and around to the garage door. She was still sopping wet, so he was unwilling to let her in through the front door. If she could even fit.

Marcus placed his left hand on a biometric scanner, a device of the same design as the one locking his front door and his equipment safe. Soundlessly, the reinforced door glided smoothly up into the ceiling, revealing the interior of his garage. Marcus noticed the Feral gawking despite her state of distress. It seemed she really was entirely unfamiliar with technology if a simple door mechanism proved so fascinating to her. Marcus stepped inside, the lights illuminating with his presence. He held out an arm to stop the dragon from following.

“Wait here a moment."

In its current state, the garage could hardly sleep Marcus, never mind the large Feral waiting outside. The human's bike sat in the dead centre of the wide room, surrounded by various tools and cables which were strewn across the floor haphazardly. Over a dozen boxes lay similarly discarded across the concrete floor and piled on top of workbenches ringing the walls. The garage was a stark contrast to his meticulously tidy equipment safe. Marcus took great care to methodically organise his combat equipment in the latter; the way he maintained and managed his bike was almost the exact opposite. The human worked quickly, picking up tools and stuffing them into boxes which he then piled in one corner of the room. Others he kicked under the workbenches or stacked even higher on top of them. Soon, the concrete floor was mostly cleared, and once Marcus carefully wheeled his bike off to one side there was a decent space left for the Feral to lie.

The human brushed dust and other detritus off his hands, and waved the dragon inside, waiting until her tail was clear of the door before he told her to stop again. A single gesture lowered the garage door, sealing them inside with a quiet hiss. The feral craned her head back to look, and she winced slightly when the door fully closed.

“Don't worry, darlin'. That door will open right back up in the morning and I'll send you on your way." He pointed towards the large area of floor he'd cleared out. “Make yourself comfortable there, I'll be back shortly.

“Don't fuckin' touch anything, alright?" he added in a warning tone.

The dragon only nodded vigorously in reply as she padded softly over to the spot he'd indicated. Evidently, she was done speaking for tonight.

“Good. I won't be long." Marcus felt no small amount of anxiety allowing this Feral to sleep next to his precious bike, let alone leaving her unsupervised, but he could hardly change his mind and kick her out now. Especially after the extra humiliation he'd put her through. So, the human left her standing awkwardly in his garage as he opened the interior door and stepped back into his living room.

Marcus made it to the kitchen island before reality kicked in.

What was he doing? This was fucking crazy!

He gripped the granite countertop with both hands and stared at the speckled surface, eyes wide and breathing heavily. There was a fucking Feral in his garage! And Marcus had invited her in! Now that he was back in his kitchen, everything that had happened outside felt like a surreal dream. Only when he went to check the clock on his wall did Marcus notice that the emergency lighting remained on here, its glow bathing everything in a dull crimson. The video screen still displayed the exterior camera feed. The human didn't even remember unpairing his corneal display from the infrared sensor, but his vision had been normal for some time now.

Marcus felt his heartbeat quicken. He was never absentminded like this. Never. His dangerous profession required constant alertness and awareness, and the human's expertly honed skills were the exact reason he was so successful in the first place. Everything about this bizarre situation had thrown him completely off-kilter, and the realisation of his own imprudence sent a spike of anxiety into his core.

He checked the clock again.

23:47

“Fuck me… over an hour?" he mumbled to himself. It barely felt like ten minutes since he'd went out the front door with every intention of killing the thing which now resided inside his own garage. And yet, it also felt like days had passed, the whole experience practically a blur. What the hell had possessed him to let this thing inside?

A gunshot. Two corpses in one grave. One questionably guilty. The other, painfully innocent. Orange fur matted with blood, an expression frozen in anguish and fear. A warm splash on his face, the stench of iron…

Something crunched. Marcus released his grip on the countertop with a start, the vivid flashback leaving him as quickly as it had come. He staggered back and blinked rapidly. It felt like he was right back in that bathroom again. Only for a moment, but it was enough to shatter his usually unshakeable demeanour.

He whirled around to the sink, yanking the tap on full. The human needed to hear something, anything right now, to drown out the noise of that gunshot still echoing inside his skull. Water rushed and splashed onto the ceramic, and Marcus focused on it, trying his best to calm his fraying nerves. He had no idea what the fuck just happened, but losing his mind was the last thing he needed while already trying to deal with…

Right. The dragon.

Marcus took a deep, shuddering breath. He imagined Ekon's girlfriend in there instead of the Feral. Would he have helped the fox, had it been her? Took her in, sheltered her for a night, given her some food and water had she been starving? Even despite the massive OPSEC breach that action would incur?

Of course, he told himself. It would be the right thing to do, given everything that had happened. Marcus wasn't an evil man. He still had morals.

Since when?

It wasn't Ekon's girlfriend waiting in his garage. Because he'd killed her. Mercilessly and with only the slightest hesitation, solely concerned with covering up his own crime. He did have morals, the human realised. It was just that his morals were rarely aligned with the wellbeing of others, being guided only by his own ambition and drive for success. Marcus didn't help people. He left them dead on the ground as he stepped over their cooling corpses and moved on to the next target in his path.

So why help her?

Marcus turned off the tap.

Well, he had to start somewhere.

He turned back to the kitchen island, shocked to see a section of the granite countertop cracked and buckled. There was dust on his right hand. The human's augmented grip had been strong enough to break the stone slab without even realising it. Sighing, Marcus saw that the security system was still on alert, and he grumbled the verbal deactivation command. Red lighting changed smoothly to warm yellow, and his wall-screen flicked back to the entertainment browser which he'd been mindlessly scanning before everything went to hell. He was still yet to get a towel for the sopping wet Feral in his garage, and the human was conscious that he'd promised to be back soon. He didn't exactly want her coming looking for him.

Marcus crossed the living space to his bathroom, situated just off the dining area near the rear patio doors. He sifted through drawers for a few minutes, trying to determine which towel was the biggest. Eventually, he settled on one and returned to the kitchen, setting it on the damaged countertop. The human was torn between trying to help the Feral, and not wanting to encourage her to return. He was worried that if he fed her, she might come back to his house looking for more, like some sort of stray animal. Marcus frowned. Dealing with all this hassle was enough once over. He hardly wanted a repeat of tonight in the near future.

Marcus stopped in front of the fridge, folding his arms and thinking it over. The human huffed with exasperation. He decided to at least give her something to drink. Because of her large size, he grabbed a full-size ceramic pot and filled it at the sink. His cybernetic arm easily hefted the substantial weight of the full pot, and Marcus draped the previously acquired towel over his real arm before proceeding back to the garage. He hesitated only for a second before opening the door, hoping the dragon hadn't made a mess of things while he was gone.

Thankfully, to Marcus' relief, nothing was out of place. Except for the dragon curled up on the cool concrete floor, out cold despite still being half-soaked. Marcus cleared his throat, trying not to startle her.

“Ahem."

Her eyes blinked open, and the Feral almost jumped out of her scales upon seeing him, before settling back down on the floor, looking wary. She must have forgotten where she was, Marcus thought.

“Brought you a towel. Here," he threw it at the dragon, who only flinched as the white fabric landed haphazardly across her back, half covering her wings. She looked anxiously at the towel then back at Marcus. The human caught himself somewhere between a laugh and a groan. The dragon looked absolutely ridiculous with a towel half-draped across her prone form.

“Oh, for fuck's sake…" he muttered. “You can use that to dry yourself down. Y'know, 'cause you're still fuckin' soaked…?" he trailed off as the Feral shuffled uneasily out from under the fabric, rising to stand and grip it in a front paw, still looking completely hopeless. Marcus rolled his eyes. She'd figure it out later. He officially drew the line at drying down the dragon's ass himself. This situation was already absurd as it was.

He nodded to the large heavy pot in his right arm, setting it down on the edge of the free floor space. “Also brought you some water, in case you're-"

The Feral lunged forward, and for a moment Marcus mentally shifted into combat mode, lowering his stance in an instant and raising his cybernetic right arm to block an incoming strike that never came. Instead, the dragon plunged her snout straight into the ad-hoc water bowl at his feet, splashing some onto the floor. She swallowed down huge gulps, completely oblivious to the human who'd been preparing to fight right above her.

“…thirsty…" he finished, more to himself than the Feral, who continued to ignore him standing over her as she drained over half the water in seconds. “Fuckin' hell…"

The dragon finally lifted her head out, panting slightly as rivulets of water ran off her muzzle and splashed back into the bowl. Her eyes flicked up to Marcus, who loomed over her with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“Um-" she stuttered, taking a step back sheepishly. Her long neck lifted, and she looked away and spoke for the first time since her impromptu hose-down. “Thank you. I was. Th-thirsty, I mean…"

Marcus stared blankly.

“Uh-huh" he deadpanned, remaining still for a moment as he thought something over. Then, shaking his head, the human turned and walked to one corner of the garage. He lifted a large metal bucket and carried it back to the cleared space, setting it down near the 'water bowl'. Marcus had no idea what habits or customs her kind had dealing with hygiene, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

“That door will stay locked 'till mornin'. Means you won't be able to get out before then." He tapped the bucket with a foot, and the Feral's ears perked up at the metallic ring. “You need to piss or whatever, you use this. Under no circumstances will you mess up my floor. Got it?" The human felt a little awkward treating the dragon like a pet who wasn't housebroken, but at this point he didn't know what else to do. “And, you'll be cleaning that out yourself. Reckon I've done enough already…" he trailed off, mumbling that last part to himself.

The dragon, for her part, looked mortified again. She eyed the metal bucket with a mixture of disgust and embarrassment. “Y-you want me to… in that?"

Marcus frowned. “I sure as hell don't even want you in here, but you're here anyway!" The dragon flattened her ears back as he continued, his voice raised in annoyance. After all he'd done, this wild-living Feral had the audacity to be picky? He advanced on her. “Now, I think I've been more than fair to you, considerin' I coulda' just shot you outside and been done with it, or told you to fuck off and leave. But here I am housing you and watering you because I'm just such a nice fuckin' guy, so if you'd stop fuckin' complaining I'd very much fuckin' appreciate it!" The human finished, practically yelling as he punctuated each curse with a jabbing finger pointed towards the fearful dragon.

His rage left him as quickly as it came when he noticed he'd backed her into the wall, and she looked about ready to soil herself again. Marcus sighed and stepped back as he looked at her apologetically. “Sorry. Shouldn't've got so angry at ya'." He looked at the floor. “Whole night's been pretty stressful, y'know?" he chuckled. “I just-"

“No. You're right." the dragon interrupted him, looking him dead in the eyes with a guilty expression. “You've already d-done more than I deserve…"

Marcus looked at her curiously. “Just doin' what I can, I guess. Still doesn't mean I should be an asshole to you."

The dragon nodded quietly. “Still… thank you."

The shadows of a smile tugged at Marcus' mouth. “You're alright, Feral. You know that?" He turned towards the door, pausing before he left. “Try not to fuck up anything overnight, and tomorrow mornin' we'll go our separate ways and pretend this never happened." He made to leave again, but she interrupted him once more.

“Why do you call me that?"

Marcus turned and gave her a quizzical look. “Call you what?"

“F-Feral. That's not my name…" she said softly.

The human thought for a moment. “It's, uh, what we call your kind. Dragons. And others. Ones who live out in the wilds, walk on four legs, so on…." His brain took a moment to process her words. “You have a name, then?" he asked surprisedly.

The dragon nodded. “Zera."

Marcus felt a peculiar sensation in his chest. A name? He hadn't been expecting that detail. The human had wrongly assumed that the Ferals wouldn't bother to name themselves, since they didn't have a society to speak of.

He was making a lot of incorrect assumptions tonight, it seemed.

What little he thought he knew about these creatures, these people, was being challenged and disproven by this fascinating dragon.

“Zera…" Marcus silently rolled the name around his tongue. It sounded foreign, but not exactly alien. Interesting. He made for the door, but stopped yet again. “'Name's Marcus." He stated matter-of-factly.

Zera fixed her peculiar gaze on him again. “Thank you, Marcus…"

The human waved it off as he left the room. “Yeah, yeah… don't overdo it…"

He shut the door behind him.

Click.

Marcus leaned against the door. He slowly raised both palms to cover his face and rub his eyes, gradually pushing his fingers up to run them through his short, black hair. He was so incredibly tired. The beginnings of a headache began to thrum at his temples. The human realised with dismay that he still needed to take his second regen injection. As much as Marcus wanted to simply collapse and sleep for half a day, he knew he needed to heal, or his ribs would only become more of a problem.

Not that he could afford a lie-in anyway, with a dragon in his house.

He trudged over to the couch, settling down into the soft cushioned seat with a groan of pain. Fighting heavy eyelids, Marcus reached over with one arm to grab a small tube-shaped device sitting on a side table. With the other hand, he gestured at the wall-screen to bring up the security feeds again. Specifically, the camera feed for his garage.

Zera had already curled up on the floor again, with the towel half-draped over her rear as she rested. The dragon must have been even more tired than him, Marcus thought. She looked fast asleep.

Marcus tugged the hem of his shirt up to expose his right side, wincing when he saw the heavy bruising covering his chest and ribs. It looked even worse than this morning. He looked for the previous injection spot from his first dose of the day, the small red bump beneath his pectoral barely visible under a sea of discoloured purples.

Marcus grimaced as he lined up the black injector device with its target. He tapped once on the display, confirming the same settings he used this morning. He pressed again to start. A short nozzle, around half a centimetre in diameter and twice that in length, presented from the business end of the device. As he pressed it lightly to his skin, it produced a small droplet of disinfectant gel to sterilise the injection site. The nozzle then retracted, and Marcus did his best to prepare himself for what was coming.

Quickly and without warning, a huge thick needle stabbed out of the injector and buried itself almost an inch deep in his chest. The human clenched his jaw and grunted through the pain. He barely had a moment to breathe before the device began to pump a chilling, viscous fluid into his body. Marcus gasped as he felt the disconcertingly cool smart-fluid begin to spread around inside his chest, worming its way between muscle fibres and layers of fat tissue to reach his cracked ribs. The human was thankful his augmented arm could keep a steady grip on the injector, as he doubted his real arm would be able to keep it still in this situation.

He felt the fluid spread to his back, seeking out the rib which was cracked there. Marcus had known Atlas did a number on him back in Zianos' compound, but the damage turned out to be worse than he anticipated. Five cracked ribs, one in the back and four up front, with heavy bruising to his chest and back. He also had a mild concussion, which he'd not even noticed until the medical scanner picked it up when he got home. His right shoulder was still aching like a bitch from the bullet that impacted his armour, and his whole body was generally stiff and tender from being thrown around during that fight.

Marcus grit his teeth and tried to ignore the distinctly uncomfortable sensation of the smart-fluid settling into place and adhering to his ribcage. There, it would promote rapid healing and bone regrowth, thanks to a specifically engineered cocktail of drugs and smart-proteins. It would only take about four hours for his body to metabolize and absorb the leftover components, which were designed to be broken down in the liver into harmless waste products before being filtered out through the kidneys.

Devices like this did not come cheap, at around a thousand credits per injector, and were usually reserved for use by hospital trauma wards or law enforcement. Marcus had experience using them from when he worked for the latter, however they were normally designed to be operated by a second person rather than self-administration as he was doing now. Depending on the severity of the injury, an injector could hold anywhere from ten to just two doses, which were calculated automatically based on onboard scanner readouts. From the information displayed on the screen, it seemed he'd get four more uses out of this one before he'd have to crack open a second. The human kept a small stockpile of regen injectors due to the nature of his profession, so he wasn't worried about running out any time soon.

The last of the smart fluid finished exiting the needle, and the injector gradually withdrew it from Marcus' body. The point slipped out of his flesh as the human hissed in discomfort. No blood flowed from the small wound, however, thanks to a small volume of medical glue dispensed by the needle as it exited his body. Marcus took a slow, deep breath as he set the injector back down on the side table, the action feeling odd and unnatural with the extra fluid present in his chest.

He relaxed back into the couch cushion, observing the sleeping dragon on the camera feed. Zera was totally still, save for her rhythmic breathing. The human felt a little voyeuristic watching her like this, especially when she had no idea he was doing so, but Marcus found himself so fascinated with her that he could hardly look away. The dragon looked almost peaceful nestled in the space he'd cleared out. Marcus felt an odd mixture of emotions as he watched her doze. An insistent, low-level anxiety remained in the back of his mind, his honed danger instinct and sense of pragmatism still telling the human that this was a bad idea. That his unnecessary display of generosity would come back around to bite him in the ass.

But there was something else, too. A warm, comfortable feeling. It was faint, but persistent. Was it pride? No, Marcus thought. It felt less selfish than that. He felt…justified? Morally righteous, even.

The feeling of having done the right thing.

“So that's what that feels like…" Marcus muttered dryly.

And he had done the right thing. The human was sure of that now.

Zera.

The fact she had a name affirmed for Marcus what he'd been striving to accept ever since the dragon first spoke to him. That she was a person. Not a wild animal or beast, but a person whose mind was just as complex and significant as any denizen of civilisations was. A name meant that her kind had a society, they had personal identities and relationships! Marcus felt like he'd just stumbled on a pretty significant discovery. As far as he knew, everyone in the city viewed the Ferals as nothing more than dumb animals, little better than the unintelligent wolves known to roam the wilds -themselves only distant relatives of the wolves living in the cities. Zera proved that assumption dead wrong.

The human wondered how the hell she even knew how to speak Common.

Every citizen of Horizon spoke the same language, although Marcus had heard that some of the other, distant cities had their own dialects. That was never really an issue, though. What little communication passed between cities was normally digital in nature and could probably be run through some sort of translator software, like whatever was used to decipher the ancient languages found in the artefacts and ruins of the old world. As for people, well, no-one ever left Horizon. There was a single, massive gate on the eastern side of the city, only used if engineers needed to visit the sprawling network of automated farms which surrounded Horizon for miles around. Such farms supplied the city with anything biological that couldn't be easily synthesised in a lab or a factory. Raw metals and minerals were mined in vast quarries, located far from the city, and transported to the factories and assemblers of Horizon via a huge underground transit system. Those, too, were entirely automated. When everything ran smoothly, not a single person ever had reason to leave the city, and most spent their entire lives within its walls.

So, Marcus found himself perplexed as to how a Feral, presumably born and raised outside Horizon, could communicate perfectly in their language. The human racked his brains. Now that he thought of it, Marcus remembered he'd heard talk about occasional, crazy bastards who ventured out into the wild lands beyond their borders, for god-knows-what reason. Maybe Zera had learned it from one of them? He'd have to ask her in the morning, when-

“No. Stop." Marcus told himself. The dragon was leaving first thing in the morning. He'd already risked enough to help her for one night. His good deed was done. No need to push his luck by letting her hang around longer than necessary…

Marcus stared at the camera feed again, silently watching Zera's sleeping form. The high-quality image allowed him to see every detail, down to the individual scales coating her body. Try as he might, the human couldn't ignore how thin she looked, and he was reminded of why she'd come here in the first place. How she told him that she'd be dead soon, regardless of what happened.

He sighed.

Well, maybe he could give her something to eat before she left. It wouldn't feel right otherwise.

“Ugh…" the human rubbed his temple as the logical part of his mind clashed with the emotional part again. “Fuck it," he mumbled tiredly. “Can at least sleep on it…"

So, Marcus rose gradually from the couch, right hand steadying his chest as he felt the smart fluid within adjust its position slightly. He winced and sucked in a measured breath, rising to a stand and shutting off the wall-screen with a handwave. The human shuffled exhaustedly into his bedroom, fully ready to slowly collapse into the sheets and finally get some much-needed rest.

The heavy metal door thudded shut. The sound of six mechanical clicks permeated the now empty living area, and then all was silent.